


Angel

by ABrighterDarkness



Series: Natasha Bingo [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Feelings Realization, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Natasha Romanov Feels, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26215144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABrighterDarkness/pseuds/ABrighterDarkness
Summary: It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  It was never supposed to be like this and Natasha was certain that there was no way that it could end well.  Someone was always going to get hurt and with the way her story tended to play out, it wouldn’t be her.  Even if it really should be.  Even if she set herself up for it, in the end, it wouldn’t be her.  Natasha tended to be the one doing the hurting, if only to avoid it herself.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Series: Natasha Bingo [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656832
Comments: 9
Kudos: 121





	Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Black Widow Bingo square **Last Time**
> 
> Also, the title and story was inspired by this song: [Angel by Theory of a Deadman](https://open.spotify.com/track/6cu5ckH4xzTMbwLPLi5uLR?si=D2Y9VLZURtCh6XQ-UYCiFA). It's an excellent and fitting song :)
> 
> Thank you to KreativeKitten for the beta.

“Natasha,” Steve called from behind her, the heavy sound of his booted footsteps echoing through the hallway as he jogged toward her. “Tasha, wait.”

“I’m fine, Steve,” Natasha insisted blandly as she hit the call button for the elevator that would take her away from the Mission Prep floor back to her own.

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” he said easily, coming to a stop beside her. “But that wasn’t very convincing.”

“I’m not the one that threw myself off the top of a building. Again.” she shrugged, stepping forward the moment the elevator doors opened. She jabbed quickly at the button to close the doors, glaring slightly when he squeezed through before they could shut him out.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

They had never let this-this  _ thing _ between them touch any other part of their lives. In the field, they were as perfect of a team as they had always been. She never had to question if he had her back, no matter how she might have left things the night before. And he never seemed to question if she had his, instead treating it as though it was a given. That automatic show of trust, letting a Widow have his back, meant far more than she gave herself the allowance to admit.

She shouldn’t have asked, no matter how curious she was. Natasha wasn’t sure what was more dangerous: giving a Widow your back or your heart. To give a Widow both? Sheer stupidity. But then again, this  _ was _ Steve Rogers. Natasha wished her heart hadn’t skipped as fondly as it had at the cheeky grin he had given in response to that.

Among the rest of the team, their friendship is the truest she’s known. They teased and poked fun of each other and the rest of their team. But even then, Natasha seemed to be drawn to him, some magnetic pull that never failed to keep her in his orbit. She happily took full advantage of his willingness to allow her to tuck her cold feet under his thigh or curl against him during movie nights, stealing as much of his furnace-like body heat as she could. The others seemed to adjust automatically, leaving the spot next to Steve open for her if she happened to show up later. And like a moth to a flame, she always went.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was  _ never _ supposed to be like this and Natasha was certain that there was no way that it could end well. Someone was always going to get hurt and with the way her story tended to play out, it wouldn’t be her. Even if it really should be. Even if she set herself up for it, in the end, it wouldn’t be her. Natasha tended to be the one doing the hurting, if only to avoid it herself.

Or maybe, this time, it wouldn’t be  _ just _ her.

And it didn’t matter if she wanted it,  _ him _ so damn much. That should never come into consideration, her wants. 

Steve sighed, wincing guilitly at the reminder. “Tasha,” he urged gently. “I’m okay too, you know.”

“I know,” she said crisply, staring straight ahead at her own reflection in the polished steel. 

“Natasha,” Steve urged and Natasha could feel his hesitation as he took a step closer. “I wouldn’t have jumped if I hadn’t known for certain that Tony was right there.”

“And if you hadn’t jumped, you’d have gone down when the building blew and we’d still be digging you out,” she pointed out, clenching her jaw against the way her voice trembled and forcing her tone flat. “As it is, we’re all home safe with little more than bruises. It’s fine, Steve.”

She couldn’t ignore the way her chest had ached and her head had spun, watching the building come down and having to wait for confirmation that he had made it out. Holding her breath until Steve and Tony’s bickering had come across the comms. Natasha had been grateful that she’d had no direct orders, in that moment, nothing else that required her immediate attention, than to watch and wait. The dizzying rush of relief that had overwhelmed her had been impossible to ignore. 

No matter how much she tried to shove it down, to ignore it, to pretend that she didn’t feel it, she  _ cared  _ about what happened to him. Needed him to be okay. And not only because he was her teammate. 

But there really was no way of smoothing over the very real risks they all took every time they geared up and set out. There was never a guarantee that any of them would make it home in one piece. That they did more often than not was a miracle in itself. It shouldn’t matter. She had known the risk and vulnerability of attachments long before she had known herself, long before she had begun making a concerted effort to break through her years of training. It shouldn’t  _ matter _ that the risks were suddenly so much more  _ real. _

But it did.

He didn’t try to speak again. Instead of empty promises and baseless reassurances, his arm wound around her waist and pulled her against his chest in a tight hug. The fingers of his other hand gently combed through her hair, dislodging dust and debris from the fight without care for the gritty texture.

Natasha held out as long as she could, standing stiffly in his hold. The gentle, affectionate touch wasn’t supposed to soothe or calm or  _ ground.  _ It didn’t matter what it should or shouldn’t do though, her resistance didn’t last. She wasn’t sure that she actually wanted it to. Actually, she knew she didn’t. Barely a heartbeat later, her arms coiled around his waist and she sunk into the embrace, her head coming to rest against the star on his chest. His hand in her hair stilled and he just held her close. She could feel the press of a firm kiss to her hair.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The thought hovered in her mind even as she lifted onto the balls of her feet, stretching up to meet his lips for an urgent kiss. It struck her odd that it didn’t feel as trivial as a want and seemed to toe the line of being a  _ need. _ She didn’t need the affection, she  _ didn’t. _ But she couldn’t help but think that she needed the reassurance that the hurt wasn’t here quite yet. That he was still here, despite the odds that always seemed to be against them.

It was how it always started, when it was just them. Natasha found herself going all too willingly when he crowded her back against the elevator wall. Leaning too easily into his touch when he broke the kiss to gently tuck a stray piece of her hair behind her ear and tipped her chin upward again. Responding far too genuinely when he kissed her again.  _ Wanting _ that soft affection far too much. 

She had been fighting this for so long. Every time should have been the last time. Only heartbreak and devastation could possibly come of this. Every time she swore that it would be and each time he just smiled sadly and let her go. He had never asked her to stay, though she could read him well enough to know that he wanted to. He would just watch her redress in silence while pretending to stare at his hands and she pretended that she didn’t notice. 

He pretended it was all okay and she pretended that walking away without a backwards glance didn’t ache. She also pretended not to realize that it’s  _ his _ t-shirt she pulled over her head every time, despite ensuring that nothing of hers was left behind. He never mentioned it either.

They had gotten good at pretending.

Something was different now though. She couldn’t place it, couldn’t put a name to it. Didn’t see the point in giving it a name. He met her urgency with urgency. The genuine want and affection was still there, just under the surface but there was an insistence that hadn’t been there before. Or at least, that she hadn’t allowed herself to notice. Usually, it was always Natasha that tipped the slow, lingering kisses into more. Left to wish against her own desires that he wouldn’t follow so willingly. That he wouldn’t indulge her recklessness. 

Not that she couldn’t acknowledge the irony in wishing that Steve Rogers wouldn’t indulge recklessness. Knowing he was only going to hurt had never stopped Steve from following his heart, she wasn’t sure why she would have thought this would be any different.

But, this time, as the elevator opened to her floor, he didn’t hesitate, didn’t step back and let her walk away, didn’t wait for her to escalate it. He only released her hair and bent just enough to hook his arm under her thighs and lifted her, never breaking the kiss for more than a panted breath. 

This time, neither gave her mind time to think as they scrambled and tore at each other's uniforms, only just inside the door of her apartment. Natasha only allowed herself a brief moment to linger on the fact that it was the first time she had peeled the stiff material away from him. The first time, in all those months that they had circled around one another, that the Captain and the Widow had stripped each other down to just Steve and Natasha.

There was something to be said, though she couldn’t place it at the moment, about the way the pieces of their uniforms were left at the door. About the way the solid black of hers fell beside the red, white and blue of his without thought or care. 

Steve didn’t give her the time to consider it or the time to truly think at all, with the way he pressed her firmly into her bed without concern for the grit of battle that still clung to them both. His bulk pressed her down into the softness of the mattress even as the urgent insistence of the kiss changed. Softened into something less demanding and more earnest and intimate. She didn’t fight it like she normally would, didn’t push and push until the heat returned. 

She didn’t want to. 

Natasha stilled at the realization, even as he worked his way down her body, hands and lips trailing and exploring with energy that felt reverent. Immediately, he sensed the change and withdrew, pulling himself back up to meet her eyes. “Okay, Angel?”

“Yeah,” she breathed and then smiled, truly and genuinely in the way she didn’t normally allow herself, not in these moments. She loved and hated that little nickname he had for her. She was no angel, even if the way he looked at her made her question it. He never used it in public, never around the team. Never anywhere that it might be overheard. Only whispered it between them as though it,  _ she _ was something precious. Natasha couldn’t begin to imagine what about her could possibly come across as remotely angelic. She wanted to ask. She couldn’t help but wonder if it would extend that far, if what they had ever became known to the team and beyond. If he might take to calling her that outside these moments. She thought that she might want him to.

Steve smiled and kissed her sweetly. Lips and jaw to her ear and down over her neck, retracing his previous path down. Natasha let him move over her body freely, letting herself sink into it with a relish that she didn’t even attempt to justify. She only fully registered it when he pressed heated kisses to her thighs before settling her legs bent over his broad shoulders. Her body shuddered at the attention as he lapped insistently at her core. The muscles of her thighs tighten around his head and her fingers buried, curling tightly in his hair as she gave herself over.

His hands swept over her, from her hips and over her waist to her breasts. He carefully cupped them, squeezing gently before his fingers teased at her nipples. Tugging and twisting and plucking in the ways he had long since learned drove her crazy and sent her control tumbling. Between his teasing fingers and talented tongue, Natasha let herself sink into the rush of the building orgasm. Handing herself over in ways that she knew to be dangerous but incapable of denying either of them. 

Her body, from her toes all the way up, tightened at the first wave rushed through her with a low, breathless moan. Her fingers clenched tightly, tugging roughly in his hair drawing the low groan that she had expected no matter how distracted she might have been by the rush of pleasure.

It took a moment to realize that he wasn’t stopping, even as she reached her peak and went through to the other side. She was sensitive, almost overly so. It almost,  _ almost _ tickled. It was odd, feeling the upward tilt of his grin against her when he managed to work the surprised giggle out of her. But he didn’t stop. Pushing her through the ticklish, over sensitive sensation, pressing his mouth and teeth and tongue more firmly against her while soothing his broad palms against her torso. His arms tightened around her hips, holding her against him as he pushed through the overly sensitive and straight into another peak.

She couldn’t have silenced herself even if she had been in full control. Not then. He was far too good at making sure of that.

He climbed back up over her body after, pressing kisses into the softness of her stomach until he could catch her lips again. Natasha had always hated tasting herself on the lips and tongues of her previous lovers. She couldn’t say why but it was always different, had always  _ been _ different, when Steve kissed her after. Maybe it was just that, no matter how much she fought it, she craved his kisses. She craved the pure affection that laced them no matter how soft or harsh they were.

Her fingers tightened in his hair at the touch of lips to hers with the need to keep him near. To keep his body pressing against her own and the sweep of his tongue against hers for as long as she could keep it. Natasha thought that if she gave in, allowed herself to want it she might be able to keep it always. 

She pulled back just far enough to breathe “please” against his lips, tightening with her hands in his hair and her legs around his waist, arching just right at her hips until he just barely breached her. 

They both groaned as he let his hips shift forward, sinking deep with a long, slow thrust. He shifted his weight from his hand to rest his weight on that forearm, keeping them pressed as close together as he could manage while leaving his other hand free to touch. His touch wandered over her from her bent knee to her thigh that hooked around his hip and up to trace her jaw with the edge of his thumb. 

When she allowed herself to think about it, Steve didn’t seem to be an ass or breast man, his attention never seemed to linger on one feature over the other. He hadn’t really shown particular preference. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t look, he absolutely did. That was largely how they wound up here to begin with. And she would have noticed if his attention had focused preferentially. She had been trained to recognize what aspects of herself ought to be accentuated. 

He showed equal attention to her legs as he did to her ass and breasts. Those pretty blue eyes darkened when she took one baddie or another down, regardless of if it was with outsmarting them or pure physical ability. She was able to pick up on the same physical tells when she landed a particularly pointed barb amongst their teammates. 

If she really thought about it, he seemed to be a  _ Natasha _ specific type of guy. 

Just for her.

She didn’t take the time to follow that line of thought just then. Perhaps she would save that one as a tease for when Clint or Tony got particularly obnoxious.

But then Steve began to move. Both hands: the one that braced his weight over her and his free one, laced his fingers with hers. He stretched their joined hands up as high as he could. It was  _ different _ again, the way that he moved. It still amazed her, the way he seemed to know her body. How he knew just when to nip at her lips at the same moment he drew his hips back, and dove into the kiss as he thrust forward again.

For all the frenzy they’d had in the elevator, Steve seemed perfectly content to take his time in pulling her apart piece by piece now that he had her under him. He was succeeding too, and from the look in his eye, he knew it. 

He released his grip on her hands, dipping them between her body and the mattress to pull her up until he settled back onto the bed, his legs folded under her with her in his lap. His hands relaxed against her hips, supportive and bracing but giving her full control of her movement. The part of her mind that always insisted that this time was the last time pushed for hard and fast, rough enough that his fingertips would leave marks where the last ones had already faded. 

For once, she allowed herself to disregard that urging.

Natasha shifted on her knees, her hands rising again to bury in his hair even as she rocked against him, finding the slow and easy pace that she had wanted but hadn’t allowed. He groaned low against her lips, his hands gliding over her skin and drawing shivers. It was a closeness and an intimacy that she hadn’t given them before. As his arms circled her waist, pressing their bodies as close as possible, she couldn’t for the life of her understand why she had so insistently denied them it. 

His head tipped back, watching her again with that same reverent intensity that he always had, eyes sweeping over her face as though he was attempting to memorize her. The one that dimmed when she slipped away time and time again. This time when she kissed him, a tension that she hadn’t realized he was carrying released under her hands and his arms tightened around her waist. 

Realization settled in her mind and she ached with the truth of it. He  _ had  _ been trying to memorize, to make sure he remembered, already bracing himself to watch her walk away again. Something in her kiss had reassured him, given him something, some sort of encouragement that let him hold on tighter. 

Natasha broke the kiss and wound her arms around him, hugging him as tightly to her as he hugged her. Steve buried his face into her neck, pressing kisses to her skin. It wasn’t long before familiar tension began coiling and the movement of her hips quickened automatically in response. He trailed kisses over her throat to her ear without allowing the slightest distance between their bodies.

“There you go, angel,” he groaned, meeting the rocking of her hips with steady thrusts of his own. A rush of heat washed over her and her body tensed all at once. Almost distantly, she could hear his familiar low groan and could feel the minute trembling in his body. And then his lips found hers again even as they attempted to steady their breathing. 

She didn’t let go this time and neither did he. His arms stayed warm and heavy around her waist when he withdrew from the kiss just enough to meet her eyes again. Somehow, the way he looked at her then seemed far more intimate than everything up until that point. It was almost too much, nearly overwhelming but she couldn’t bring herself to look away. 

“Stay?” he whispered softly, the single word breathed against her lips. 

Maybe it was that his voice sounded as vulnerable as she felt. Maybe it was the urge that never seemed to leave, pushing her back into his orbit. Maybe, just maybe, it was the feeling of safety despite the vulnerability. Maybe, though, it was simply because he had never asked before. Or, possibly, it was reason enough that she  _ wanted _ to stay. 

Maybe the reason why didn’t matter.

Natasha loosened her hold only far enough to comb her fingers gently through his hair, smiling when his eyes fell half-closed and he leaned into her touch. Her smile held as she tilted her head back to his, whispering her own soft “yes” before reclaiming his lips.


End file.
